


Of Duty: Sacrifice

by nottonyharrison



Series: Of Duty and Related Stories [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crises of Conscience, Developing Relationship, F/M, Identity Porn, Moral Dilemmas, Non-Linear Narrative, Politics, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-22 20:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison
Summary: By the time Senator Riyo Chuchi realizes something’s not right with Commander Fox, the Republic has fallen, and Fox has disappeared. While she finds her way as a young leader in a new regime, Riyo uncovers the sinister truth about the clones, and learns what she’s prepared to sacrifice to rescue a friend.Running concurrent to the events of Of Duty, follow Riyo Chuchi and her quest to find out what happened to Commander Fox, attempt to navigate the political machinations of the Empire, and test the limits of her own conscience.
Relationships: Riyo Chuchi & Alpha-17, Riyo Chuchi & Bail Organa, Riyo Chuchi/CC-1010 | Fox
Series: Of Duty and Related Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133786
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Kia Ora, and welcome to the first multi-chapter spinoff of Of Duty, which you probably don't have to read to understand what's going here, as the storylines don't cross over. This is very much a 'what was going on while everyone else was dealing with that' kind of fic, not unlike what they did with the Siege of Mandalore arc at the end of The Clone Wars.
> 
> As usual, I will be updating tags as I go if something crops up, and will include them in chapter notes for a period of time (usually a couple of weeks or until I post the next part). This story is more on the political intrigue end of the spectrum than action/adventure, however it is rated M for violence and disturbing themes, so please consider this before starting the story.

The metal is freezing cold under his bare feet, one step in front of the other until his toes are numb and it hurts to flex his joints.

He puts one step in front of the other.

One step. In front. Then the other.

Just a step, then a step, over and over until his vision becomes unfocused and the noise of the hangar fades into a muted hum, drowned out by the thud of his pulse in his ears.

His hands are sore. There’s something around his wrists… restraining cuffs, he remembers. The memories are vague, he recalls a sharp pain in his head, then someone screaming over and over until his throat was… _he_ was screaming. His throat is still raw. He hasn’t had anything to drink since when? Yesterday?

No, not yesterday he remembers sitting in his office with Senator Chuchi that morning. They shared the caf she’d bought him from the Senate cafe. It was strong and black, just how they both liked it. She’d left purple lipstick on the lid, and laughed, then wiped his lips with her thumb when some of it transferred. 

That morning.

So much has happened since then though? So much but then also nothing.

His stomach feels as if it’s trying to digest itself. An empty hollowness punctuated by a gurgling roll every now and then. His mouth is so dry, his breath feels shallow and painful as his lungs expand with each puff.

That morning.

Where is he again?

One step in front of the other. Sore, cold feet. A sudden hiss and thud and… oh, that’s a prisoner transport.

Why is he walking on to a prisoner transport?

Something hard and blunt jabs him in the kidney, and a hand clamps him on the shoulder, pushing him down into a pod.

But that’s his job. Why is he…

Pain surges through his skull again, and memories flash past. Orders, death, a hard slap on the cheek from a blue hand.

Those aren’t his experiences. Not his.

Whose are they?

The pain subsides, and the red tinted clear plastoid closes around him. There’s a quiet hiss, and as he slowly drifts off into unconsciousness, he hears a voice repeat in his head, kindly yet sinister, over and over until it fades along with his cognizance.

_CC-1010, activate order ninety-seven._

_Order ninety-seven._

_CC-1010._

_Ninety-seven._

_Internal fault recorded, return to Kamino for diagnostic and reconditioning._

_CC-1010, Return to…_

_Fault._


	2. Chapter One

When Riyo Chuchi learns two of her closest confidantes are dead, she’s sitting on a toilet in one of the public freshers, hiding from Mas Amedda and reading her mail.

The attendant knocks on the door, probably assuming the sob she’d let out was something to do with her period, then a moment later a sanitary towel is slid under the door, and the attendant asks if she’s okay.

She takes a deep breath, says she’s fine, and offers her thanks for the pad. It’s obvious the woman doesn’t know anything about Pantoran reproductive cycles, but Riyo appreciates the sentiment.

The memo’s clinical. Riyo wouldn’t have known about Ahsoka had she not received a communication saying she was back in the Jedi fold - albeit as a consultant - a battalion assigned to her in a rather convoluted and rushed fashion.

_GAR Venator Tranquility lost communications following sudden exit from hyperspace. No further transmissions received, total loss of assets assumed. Scheduled for priority 3 recovery._

_Senator Padme Amidala passed away following complications during pregnancy. A funeral will be held on Naboo ten days from Empire day._

Empire day. Or the day before yesterday, which is both accurate and far more in line with her feelings on the matter.

Riyo probably would have remained ignorant of her friends’ passing if she wasn’t the head of the now defunct Republic Memorial and Commemoration Committee. In the rushed reorganization into the new Galactic Empire, nobody thought to delete the mailing lists. This is the only one Riyo is still on, or had been on, she supposes. She’s slowly been winding down her commitments in the lead up to her reelection campaign, however even that’s looking more and more unlikely if Amedda’s insinuations hold any weight.

She lets the tears well up, ripping into the packaging of the pad as they threaten to spill onto her cheeks, and swallows down a sob. The attendant is still hovering, her shadow is visible under the cubicle door. Riyo tucks her datapad into a pocket, shuffles around enough to make it seem like she’s putting her clothing right, and dabs at her cheeks.

The attendant, a short Koorivar with a cleaved horn, starts a little when Riyo opens the door, and peers at her in concern.

“Do you need help, Senator?” she asks.

“No, no it’s okay,” Riyo replies. She balls up the pad and tucks it in her pocket. “I’ve just been informed of the passing of someone close to me.”

The attendant gives her a sad smile. “I understand, ma’am.”

Riyo nods, and thanks her, then turns to the door with her head held high and walks back to her office with feigned confidence and bluster.

Amedda’s waiting in her guest chair when she arrives. He’s flicking through one of the few paper books she keeps on her desk, and she resists the urge to snatch it out of his hands.

“Very interesting, the Pantoran moon cycle, Senator Chuchi,” he says. His voice is oily and slick, and it clings to her skin until she feels the urge to shower. “It’s my understanding part of a traditional campaign involves the ritual offering to the gods of the eclipse?”

Riyo circles the desk, and sits in her chair. She taps a key on the dataport, and smiles brightly at Amedda. “Yes, Vice Chair Amedda. It will be my honor to lead the ceremony.”

He closes the book, and places it down, next to a small holo of her family. He gestures to the frame, and leans back in his chair. “Your family must be very proud of you, a respected politician at such a young age. I understand you were a protégé of Senator Amidala?”

Riyo’s heart drops, and she looks down at her hands.

“My condolences on her passing,” Amedda says.

“Thank you, sir.” The words feel thick in her mouth.

Amedda slaps his hands down on the arms of the chair, and Riyo suppresses the urge to jump. “I imagine you know why I’m here?” he asks.

 _Yeah, to tell me I’m not to seek reelection_ she thinks, a bitter tinge hovering at the corners of her mind. “No, Vice Chair Amedda, I’m afraid I am unaware of the purpose of your visit today.”

“The Emperor has asked me to personally visit each of the senators who are planning on campaigning this season. I’m here to inform you that will not be happening.”

Riyo had been expecting a thinly veiled threat, not an outright ambush. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finds a response. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

His eyes drift back to the holo, and a thoughtful expression crosses his face. “The Emperor feels holding elections at this time would not be appropriate, and instead has requested the continuations of all terms for those loyal to the Empire. You are loyal to the Empire… aren’t you, Senator Chuchi?”

Riyo watches him carefully. He’s still looking at the holo, but then his eyes flit back to the book. She gulps, and bites her lip. “Of course, Mister Vice Chair. It would be my honor to continue serving the Empire for a second term.”

“It’s Grand Vizier Amedda, I’m surprised you didn’t get the memo.’

Her heart thuds in her chest, and she watches as he gets up from the seat, reaches for the book, and picks it up. “My apologies Grand Vizier, I have been taken up with arrangements today and must have missed it.”

“It’s no bother, Senator. You don’t mind if I borrow this do you?” He taps the book with his free hand, and tucks it under his arm. “Outer Rim rituals are a personal interest of mine, and I’m afraid I’m mostly ignorant of the goings on on your little moon.”

Riyo ignores the slight, and twists her lips in something she hopes resembles a smile. “Of course, Grand Vizier, it would be my pleasure.”

“Excellent,” he says, before turning back to the door and walking off in a swish of robes. He calls out as he takes the last couple of steps across the threshold, and the words send a shiver down her spine. “Oh, and say hello to your sister for me, she was _such_ a delight when she last visited.”

…

_She’d met Commander Fox on her first official day as a Senator. It hadn’t been a friendly introduction, more of an embarrassing debacle, really._

_The task was supposed to be simple. Provide diplomatic escort to a low risk fugitive as he was extradited to the core. Drop him off with the Coruscant Guard where they’d take custody, and then head to the Senate building for a tour, followed by a large glass of wine and a bath._

_It hadn’t gone well. Riyo had woken up in the medbay of the Central Detention Center, sporting a large gash on her head and a broken wrist. The prisoner had attempted an escape, and it turned out the Pantoran guards she’d been escorting hadn’t been as loyal to the Assembly as she’d been promised._

_So it hadn’t been an attempted escape as much as it was an_ actual _escape._

_She had her hand around the bacta bandage on her wrist, rubbing gently, when a red and white hurricane stormed into the room, and came to an abrupt halt at the side of the gurney._

_“Senator Chuchi, I presume,” he spat out._

_She’d never met a clone before, but from what she’d heard, they were polite and amiable, if a little formal. This one was rude. She jerked her head back in shock, and opened her mouth to reply. The clone interrupted, and waved his hand._

_“Nevermind, I’ve seen your file. I need to know why you let the prisoner escape.”_

_“I… I didn’t,” she stuttered. “The guards they-”_

_Before Riyo had a chance to finish her sentence, he’d lifted his hand to his mouth, said “She doesn’t know anything,” into his comm, and marched out of the room. The choice to use the wrist communicator rather than the private one in his helmet felt deliberate._

_Riyo hadn’t learned his name until three weeks later, but the medic had dropped his designation into the conversation as he was discharging her. CC-1010._

_The number had stuck in her brain like an annoying advertising jingle, and it echoed in her head for days afterward._

_What an asshole._

_…_

The building housing the newly minted Imperial Guard didn’t have an inspiring or grand name, just the accurate yet droll _Republic -_ or now _Imperial_ , Riyo corrects herself - _Military Base_ . In the days of the Republic, everyone had started calling it _The Brick_ thanks to its brutalist, block-like appearance that clashed with the otherwise elegant buildings of the Federal District.

Most days, the precinct is buzzing with activity. Troopers going about their day to day business, often with their helmets off, laughing and carousing with their squad mates. Today it’s quiet. The only human presence is a small group of fully armored clones patrolling the facility in a stiff formation, the plastoid plain white like the Guard she’d seen roaming the halls of the Senate building the last few days. Riyo hesitates as she steps out of the speeder, a wave of anxiety adding to her already constant feeling of unease. She straightens her back and holds her head high, before walking across the duracrete square.

“Halt!” There’s a clatter, the sound of a trooper moving quickly. She stops, and a few moments later a blaster is pointing at her chest. “State your business.”

Riyo clears her throat, and puts her hands on her hips. “My name is Senator Chuchi, I’m here to speak with Commander Fox. I have an urgent matter which requires his attention.”

The trooper tilts his head to the side and doesn’t speak for a few moments. Riyo’s nervousness rises, and she resists the urge to fidget with her cloak.

“There is no Commander Fox in this facility, you must be mistaken.”

It’s unusual for a trooper to insist on calling a fellow clone by designation, but she recalls Fox griping about ‘shinies’ and their increasing difficulty with grasping life off Kamino.“My apologies, Trooper. CC-1010,” she says.

“CC-1010 is no longer the Commander of the Imperial Guard, if you require assistance, the correct procedure is to file a digital service request through the Senate’s secure holonet, which will be reviewed by CC-5052 upon receipt.”

Riyo jerks in surprise, concern adding an extra layer to her already tense state. “I’m sorry, Trooper, but could you tell me where to find CC-1010? Has he been reassigned?”

“Unknown, ma’am, that is above my clearance level.”

She forces a stiff smile, and gives him a curt nod and a bow. “Thank you for your advice, trooper. I shall follow the correct process.”

He stands and watches as she gets back into the speeder, blaster trained on her the whole time. It’s not until she’s pulled into traffic that she sees him returning to his patrol in the rear view screen, back ramrod straight and stride the same length with every step.

“Shit!” A loud honk sounds, and she swerves to avoid the transport she’d nearly collided with.

It takes a few moments for her heart to stop pounding after the near miss, and when her head clears it’s filled with worry. Riyo didn’t have many true friends on Coruscant, but she counted Fox as one of them, despite their less than stellar introduction. Perhaps even something more than a friend.

There were plenty of missions that were classified - well above her pay grade as a relatively unimportant representative of an outer rim planet - that he hadn’t made her privy to, but omitting to share his reassignment was out of character.

Come to think of it, all the clones were acting out of character. Even considering they were the military arm of what was quickly proving itself to be an oppressive regime, Riyo found it unlikely that _every_ trooper would have such a sudden personality shift.

_What in kriff’s name is going on?_

…

His mouth feels as if it's filled with cotton. It’s so _dry_. He sucks on his cheeks to try and stimulate some saliva, and cracks an eye open to assess the situation.

The curved red barrier a few inches from his face tells him he’s in a Republic prison transport. Since he’s a clone, the ship must be bound for Kamino.

Reconditioning. Decommissioning. Who knew what they did with defective units nowadays. What does he mean by nowadays… what’s changed?

But Fox isn’t defective, is he? _Is he?_ Fox is the most highly decorated trooper in the entire Grand Army of the Republic. He’s on propaganda posters, for kriff’s sake.

There’s a hiss of depressurization, and the thud of magboots across metal. The prisoner hold is a zero-G, zero-O2 area of the ship. In the past, Fox has always been glad it adds that extra layer of security. Right now, he’s cursing it nine ways to the void.

“CT-89-4333 report,” a modulated voice says.

“All prisoners stable and secure, sir.”

There’s a pause, then the sound of someone moving about the hold, checking each individual pod. He stops in front of Fox’s, and presses a few buttons. “This one’s sedative tank’s run out, switching over to backup. You need to be more vigilant, 89-4333.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Especially with this one,” Fox hears, already beginning to feel fuzzy around the edges from the gas creeping back into the chamber. “File says he’s ...ly unstable... li… potential… le...”

His cracked eye shuts, and Fox hears and sees no more.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are hugs, comments are food ❤
> 
> [Come yell at me on tumblr](http://nottonyharrison.tumblr.com/ask)


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